


A Strong Hand

by Malkin_Pacifi



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Choking, Elias Bouchard Whump, Grief/Mourning, Impact Play, No Beta read we die like men, Non-Sexual, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkin_Pacifi/pseuds/Malkin_Pacifi
Summary: Sometimes a strong hand is best when dealing with a grieving avatar.And Elias has a very punchable face.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Original Female Character, Elias Bouchard/Other(s), Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Kudos: 1





	A Strong Hand

The air in Elias’s lungs comes out in a whoosh, followed by the pain caused by the fist driven into his stomach. Roughly, his chin is grabbed and he’s forced to look up. Not that he could actually see anything with the blindfold wrapped tightly over his eyes, keeping both his ability to see or draw from his patron far from his reach. He doesn’t even have the strength in him to struggle against his bonds, the rope wrapped around his wrists is so tight, he fears he’ll lose feeling soon. Not even his feet are touching the ground, the only thing preventing him from crashing to the floor on too weak limbs is the leather wrapped around his torso keeping him suspended. It doesn’t do anything to protect against the blows, in fact, it’s done nothing other than make it harder for him to breathe and his tormentor knows this. 

Another hand curls in his hair and tugs, hard, and his eyes sting as tears begin filling them. Thoughts of a stronger, larger hand following the same gesture, come unbidden. The chill of loneliness sinking into his bones as a scratchy beard ran across his bare shoulder followed by teeth digging into the pale skin. But neither sensation of the past comes, only a open palm smacking against his cheek hard enough to turn his head. The immediate backhand that follows it makes his teeth hurt. 

She’s upset this time. He’s sure of it. He might be pulled away from his patron but she was still very much attached to hers. She is being kind enough to not use her nails, knowing how poorly he reacts to that. She's been doing this for what seems to be hours at this point. He's lost track and that was kind of the whole point. 

Her hands make it to his neck and tighten. Too many pairs of hands fit perfectly around his neck and he can't help but cycle through them one after another. The one he rests on was his latest. _He_ used to make a point of stroking over Elias’s pulse points, before pressing down on them. He’d even make sure he had their wedding ring on. It’s not often it was taken off that chain that hung around his neck, but the cool metal in contrast always send Elias’s eyes rolling back in his head. It’s a sensation he’s not going to be able to get back. Not ever again and if he had air in his lungs, the wail that would be wrenched out of him would concern the neighbours. That being said, his eyes are fluttering behind the fabric, his feet kicking in panic as his lungs burn. The darkness has familiar star flashes that warn him he’s just on the edge of consciousness while the taste of tangy blood fills his mouth. 

When the hands loosen their grip, he gasps in air like a drowned man. His entire body aches, all the way down to his bones. Every inch hurts, he feels light headed, and the sobs come from deep in his core. Every sorrow, every lost love, every pain he’s felt in his life is being poured out of him in those awful wails he can no longer hold back. Why he couldn’t be chosen by Mordechai, why Barnabas was taken from him, why Peter wasn’t—Peter hadn’t— _I didn’t even get a chance to tell him_ —It had preyed upon him this whole time. He can’t even bring himself to shudder when he’s sent crashing to his knees. It’s better like this. Takes him out of his head and helps him process without the Eye staring into his soul and deciding that he’s better food than an avatar. 

The hands cupping his face trace lines over his cheeks and up his blindfold. Fingers press over his eyelids and _push_. Gentle pressure is being applied and it’s slowly being added until his pain goes to full blown panic. “ **Tundra!** ” The sound rips out of his throat and his body becomes limp with relief the moment the hands are pulled away. 

He’s not pulled to his feet, instead pulled across by the back of his shirt collar across the floor only to be tossed toward a softer surface. A bed probably. He doesn’t care. She could leave him a crumpled heap on the floor for all he cared.

By the time the blindfold is pulled from his eyes, it’s soaked with tears. The woman who is sitting next to him on the bed is frowning as her gloved hands trace down to undo the binds around Elias’s wrists. Alaina has done nothing more than drape her coat and waistcoat over a chair for the event. Her hair is tied back and out of her way in her librarian bun, her eye earrings and glasses chain reminding him that her witnessing this event is doing just as much for stealth as if he would have screamed it to the Beholding himself. She lets out a disapproving sigh, “Honestly, Elias. I don’t understand why you insist on doing this to yourself.” Instead of answering her, he shudders and curls in on himself a very weak sob of the name “Peter” coming out and her frown only grows sharper. “I see.” 

She has. She always has a fondness for witnessing him at his weakest moments and judging him on them. This is why they have this little arrangement. He’s been lucky enough to not have to use it, but after…

Elias is surprised when fingers begin carding themselves through his hair, not preparing to grab, not preparing to tug. “Is that…comfort you’re offering Miss Carter?” 

“Don’t make me regret helping you,” She snarls but doesn’t pull her hand back. She even lets him shift until his face is pressed into her side and he’s curled around her in a foetal position, “You’re pathetic you know that right?”

“And yet you come when I call. What does that make you?”

“You’re not getting me to string you up again, no matter how much of an asshole you are. I have to make a flight in a few hours.”

“Heading back to the States? So soon.”

“I do have to prepare for your ritual. I still can’t believe you’re about to pull it off.”

“What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” 

Instead of contradicting him, she cups the back of his neck, stroking her thumb over his pulse point, “And was it worth it?”

Elias is silent for a moment, his thumb idly twirling the golden band with etchings of waves around his ring finger. _Was it worth it?_ “It has to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> This should have not been my first fic. I should have proofread more. Please be kind.  
> Anyway taking out feelings on Elias Bouchard Whump. featuring my OC avatar Alaina Carter. She works at the Usher Foundation. I might have a few more drabbles about her and Elias's working relationship coming later.


End file.
